


Non-Lethal Solace

by casualhomesatanism



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Let Hanzo Cry 2k17, M/M, Mild Injury, Noodle Dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualhomesatanism/pseuds/casualhomesatanism
Summary: Despite all his charm, Jesse McCree does not excel at making friends, but when he sees a reflection of himself in a newcomer, he'll do his best.Genji is liable to explode at any second.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Overwatch fic because I can't keep my nasty little fingers out of new fandoms for long, apparently. First chapter could hypothetically be mcgenji, second could hypothetically be mchanzo, but both will be pretty vague, if either/both ships aren't your thing!
> 
> thanks for reading!!

The first thing Jesse learned about Genji was that touching him was a terrible idea. The half-dead ninja jerked away from Reyes and snarled like a kicked dog when the commander patted his shoulder, only to turn around and react to Dr. Ziegler with similar fervor; Jesse could see in Angela’s eyes that this had gone on for weeks. Even without his literal armor, Genji lived in a nest of metaphorical thorns. _Don’t push him,_ Reyes warned, _he may well kill you if you try too hard._ And though he did listen to Reyes most of the time, he took that advice with a grain of salt, because all he saw in Genji’s rigid stance was the disoriented terror of a human weapon.

 

Getting him to open up was, as expected, slow going. Genji trained like a force of nature, heedless of the agents around him, and when the glow of his crimson eyes started to dim with exhaustion, he disappeared before anyone could say a word to him. When they insisted with enough force, he put up with Angela’s prodding and Gabriel’s soft critiques. No one else—not even Captain Amari, the most unstoppable being Jesse knew—was ever granted a moment of his time. Thankfully, patience was in Jesse’s nature, and besides, Morrison expected them to work as a team, which would end in bloodshed at the rate Genji was going.

 

Genji didn’t eat much, and never in the mess hall, so that was out of the question. And Jesse knew that if he were to go knocking on the Genji’s door, he’d have a shuriken lodged in his skull before he could blink. It took him weeks to find an opening, somewhere public enough to evade suspicion, but calm enough to avoid provoking the volcanic newcomer. Three weeks after Genji began training with Blackwatch, Jesse realized that he wasn’t heading back toward the dorms afterward, but rather up toward the higher floors of the base. Though he considered it a success, Jesse dearly hoped that he wouldn’t have to imitate some ninja bullshit just to follow him.

 

As it turned out, Genji had found a hatch that opened onto the roof of the Geneva base, with only a couple ladder rungs in between. He didn’t seem remotely surprised when Jesse’s head popped out after him. But as they sat on the sloping cement, shadowed by approaching sunset and the tension of allies who would rather be enemies, Genji started to fidget. Ten, twenty minutes went by without a word, and the unease was obvious in the crease between his dense brows. After thirty minutes, he finally snapped, though he thankfully kept his abundant weaponry to himself.

 

“What do you want, McCree?”

 

It was only then that Jesse realized the ninja had never spoken to him directly. His voice was shockingly soft, even as it dripped with anger, and that was all the motivation Jesse needed to continue. “You can call me Jesse, y’know. We’re on the same level here.”

 

Genji snorted. “I doubt that. But if you wish, I will call you by your first name. It doesn’t matter to me.”

 

The silence bubbled between them, filled once again with Genji’s sour rage. Despite all his planning, Jesse struggled to come up with the right words, suave as he usually was, though he counted himself lucky that Genji hadn’t simply fled. He needed to sound sincere, caring, but not nosy. “I’ll tell ya,” he finally murmured, scratching the back of his head under the band of his hat. “I’ve enjoyed watchin’ you train. You are one hell of a fighter, Shimada.”

 

He feared he’d said something wrong, because Genji tensed, looking ready to bolt, but the moment passed. “I would rather not… ugh.”

 

“Sorry, I just—was that rude? I don’t know much Japanese but I thought it was polite—”

 

“No, that’s not it.” Genji glared into the sunset as if the peachy rays were commanding him to go fuck himself. “I… appreciate that you want to be polite, I guess. But if I never hear the name Shimada again, it will be too soon.”

 

Jesse swore internally at his own mistake. “Sorry. Just Genji, then.”

 

“Much better,” offered Genji, even quieter now. “And if I train so well, maybe you will be my sparring partner once that insufferable blond man starts making me train with others.”

 

“Sounds fantastic,” Jesse replied. He could only hope that he didn’t sound too eager.

 

\---

 

Being _sparring partners_ with a cyborg might have proven to be the worst mistake of Jesse’s life—worse, even, than Deadlock as a whole. There were only so many ways to make a katana non-lethal, so they stuck mostly with hand-to-hand practice, but fighting Genji was about as hard on Jesse’s flesh as a sword would’ve been. Surely, he’d figured, there was only so much damage to be done, since Genji was nearly a head shorter than him and not nearly as dense. After sitting in on one of their training sessions, Reyes spent an entire dinner railing Jesse over the basics of sizing up one’s opponent, laughing warm-heartedly at him and Genji all the while.

 

“How come you’re still trainin’ with me?” Jesse asked two weeks in, while lying facedown on a wrestling mat and mentally checking in with his battered ribs one by one. “Clearly I’m not much of a challenge.”

 

Genji settled down next to him, perched on his ankles like a powerful metal bird. “You don’t ask stupid questions. And you’re not as annoying as… them.”

 

“Wait, what?” Jesse sat up at that. _“I’m_ not annoying? Genji, if there’s one thing I _am,_ it’s annoying. Fuckin’ Morrison tells me every other day.”

 

He can see the scowl on Genji’s face from his eyebrows alone. “Exactly. You do not make stupid comments like that.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Morrison. Saying you are annoying.”

 

Jesse flicked a piece of hair out of his eyes, avoiding Genji’s glare. “He’s just messin’ with me. You know Reyes would never let him hurt my feelings or anythin’.”

 

“It does not upset you to be told you’re annoying?”

 

Sparring was one thing, but it was truly unfortunate that Genji had started to pick up on Jesse’s weaknesses off the battlefield, too. “I mean. A little bit. But if I told the Commander, he’d feel bad, and—”

 

“Let him. If he wants to be an ass to you, he ought to feel bad about it.” Genji finally sat down all the way, hitting the mat with a soft _thunk._ It wasn’t the sound Jesse expected from such a small, sinewy man with a metal butt. “Besides, you fight better than you think.”

 

Jesse just grunted. He needed coffee and a long shower, not to mention a break from the intensity that radiated from Genji at all times. If he were being honest, he preferred hanging around the ninja to almost anyone else on base, excluding Reyes, but basking in the rolling waves of his fury did get exhausting after a while. After another moment of thought, Jesse dragged himself to his feet and went to towel off his sweaty face, resisting the urge to clap Genji on the shoulder.

 

Six days later, Genji went missing.

 

Angela swore that he still had to be on-base, since he’d promised to bake a flourless chocolate cake with her later that night. _Not helping, Angie,_ thought Jesse, but he wasn’t going to say anything when she was so honestly distressed. Reyes had no idea, Morrison couldn’t get a word out of Genji anyway, and the only person who had seen him after noon the previous day was Ana.

 

“Fareeha and I talked with him,” she murmured, leaning close so only Jesse would hear her. Because, damn her, she knew him too well, and she could tell how agitated he was. “He’s still here. I’m certain of that. I doubt that he wants to be the center of attention at the moment, though, which is why I’m only talking to you. I trust that you’ll be able to avoid a katana to the neck.”

 

Jesse snorted. “I sure hope so, ma’am.”

 

“Cut the shit, Jesse.” Ana’s voice was bright with laughter, and that gave Jesse more hope that whatever had happened, Genji was probably okay.

 

He went down the list of possible hiding spots in his head: Genji’s room, where he knocked as gingerly as he could and then ducked out of the path of any projectile weapons; the training complex, which was eerily empty for that time of day; his rooftop hideout, where the hatch seemed harder to open than before, but revealed no sign of the ninja. Jesse hated worrying. Since his teenage years, he’d tried to keep it so that the number of people in his life who truly mattered to him was low, and those that made the list could take care of themselves, anyway. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed before that Genji was compromising his usual cool reserve.

 

After another hour of random wandering, his search was fruitful. He rounded a corner deep in the bowels of the base, close to the laundry rooms, to find those surreal red eyes staring at him as if the world were ending. A massive but old holoscreen floated in front of Genji, filling the silence with inane daytime news, as the two stared each other down for an uncomfortably long stretch of time. Jesse broke the standoff and moved as slowly as he could to sit on the ground beside Genji. No reaction. When he reached to turn off the holoscreen, however, Genji shrieked.

 

“What? What? Sorry, I didn’t—”

 

Genji was grasping at Jesse’s wrists hard enough to make it obvious that he didn’t yet understand his own cyborg strength. He hissed something in Jesse’s direction, but no discernable words came out of his mouth, even when Jesse gently pulled his hands away and raised them to show that he wouldn’t move any further. For a few seconds, he gaped at Genji, waiting for some explanation, before the ninja growled in frustration and reached up to remove the bottom half of his faceplate. He tried to speak again, failed again, and dug his palms into his eyes while Jesse stayed as still as he could.

 

“Are you alright, Genji?” he asked, keeping his voice soft but free of pity. “No one knew where you were.”

 

Genji just shook his head, his face still mostly hidden by his hands.

 

“Can you talk about it, or…?” When Genji glared up at him, gesturing wildly at his own face, Jesse backtracked. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, rubbed at the grimy screen, and opened the notes app, which he held out to his teammate. “This might work.”

 

He looked skeptical, but once his synthetic fingers hit the keyboard, Genji relaxed a tiny bit. While Jesse waited for him to type, he looked around the hallway and took stock of the location. They were between a laundry room and a garbage chute, which explained the uncomfortable smell of bleach and rotting food. The screen in front of them, which was currently spouting some shit about storms off the coast of France, looked like an old installment to keep maintenance workers entertained, even though most of the base was automated anyway. Beneath Genji’s huddled form, the floor was dusty enough to imply that no one had been down here for a long while before them.

 

As if to interrupt Jesse’s thoughts, Genji thrust the phone back into his hand, and he read as quickly as his eyes would let him. _I do not know why I can’t talk. Sorry. The news was talking about politics in Japan. It showed my family. I came down here to wait and see if they would be mentioned again._

 

Oh, this was dangerous territory. Jesse skirted around the topic of the Shimadas as much as he could, knowing full well that Genji’s rage was not a force to be played with. “How long have you been down here?”

 

Genji held up nine fingers, looking down at the floor.

 

“Nine… minutes or hours?”

 

The look on his face was as close to a verbal _what the fuck do you think, McCree_ as Jesse had ever seen.

 

“Okay, okay. Have you had any water?” Genji shook his head. “Do you… actually need water?” He shrugged, which Jesse took to mean _technically yes, but not enough to make me leave this spot, thank you very much._ “Ana said she talked to you. Is that true?”

 

This time, Genji nodded, painstakingly slow. His eyes were fixed on the screen again, which was still panning across the weather of Europe. Then the screen started buzzing, going white and then gray with static, and Jesse watched as Genji’s chest heaved in panic. The next few seconds might as well have happened in slow motion: the screen shut off, Genji jumped to his feet, and Jesse grabbed onto one metal leg and tugged, bringing Genji back down to the floor with a crash. To his surprise, Genji didn’t try to run again. His eyes were wide enough that Jesse could see white all around, and his metal arm clicked and whirred as he clutched at his heaving chest. A moment passed in silence, and then Jesse looked down and realized that he’d snagged Genji’s ankle right where one of those ridiculous blades ended.

 

“Shit.” His hand was pulsing blood across Genji’s leg and onto the grimy floor, and though it felt like he hadn’t sliced any tendons, the weird tingling in his fingers was not a good sign. Despite the initial moment of shock, he was quick to start wrapping one corner of his serape around his hand, even if it was just to curb Genji’s pale-faced horror. He didn’t have much luck with only one hand. But they were both soldiers, and Genji didn’t miss a beat as he replaced his faceplate and helped Jesse to wrap the sticky wound.

 

Jesse assumed that he was dizzy from mild blood loss, but Genji tugging him all the way to the med bay by his wrapped-up hand certainly didn’t help.

 

As a red-faced Angela cleaned and dressed his hand, admonishing them both as she worked, Genji kept his signature glare leveled at Jesse as if he had conspired to ruin Genji’s day by stabbing himself with a fucking ankle knife. Some of the tension had eased from the cyborg’s shoulders, though, and by the time Angela walked off to her computer, muttering about antibiotics, he was able to speak again.

 

“I am sorry.”

 

Jesse snorted. “That mistake was all mine, sugar.”

 

“No, I am sorry for hiding. I have caused you a lot of stress today.” When Jesse looked up, he realized in an instant how deep Genji’s glowing eyes could pierce. His words were methodical, simple, but underneath them, Genji was aware of the roiling depth of Jesse’s emotions. “It is easy to forget how much you care.”

 

“Honestly,” laughed Jesse, “I try not to, but you’ve been worth it so far.”

 

Genji says something else, but it’s lost under the sound of Angela slamming open a file cabinet. He scowls in her direction and then repeats himself. “I do not understand how that is possible, but that’s fine.”

 

“There’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me, Genji. I really don’t wanna pry about your family, but—”

 

“It was my brother.” Genji finally looked away, fixing his stare on the ground. “They were not talking about him in specific, but I saw him. And…”

 

Clearing his throat, Jesse leaned closer so that he wouldn’t have to talk as loud. “You don’t need to tell me about it if it’s gonna upset you so bad,” he mumbled.

 

“I miss my brother so much,” whispered Genji. Shock flooded over Jesse at the admission, only to triple in strength as tears welled in Genji’s eyes. From the look on the ninja’s face, he hadn’t realized that he was even able to cry. Thankfully, Angela intervened before the conversation could continue, because as hard as he tried to leave space between them, Jesse was overwhelmed with the need to give Genji some kind of physical comfort.

 

“Genji, I hope you are doing alright. You had me very concerned earlier,” scolded the doctor, her hair bobbing as she patted his shoulder. “Do not worry about our cake. You need rest. Besides, I did promise Fareeha that we would hang out today, and perhaps we can bring you some cake later on.”

 

Genji chuckled, avoiding eye contact with Angela. “Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.”

 

“And you,” she rounded on Jesse, “I don’t want to know what you were trying to do that ended with Genji’s knife in your hand, but you had _better_ not repeat it.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” mumbled Jesse. He looked up in time to catch a glint of mischief in Genji’s eyes, puffy as they were. “But, uh, I’m just sayin’, he started it.”

 

“Do not. Want. To know,” Angela repeated. She turned away after handing Jesse an extra bandage, leaving them to get out of the medbay before they could incite any further irritation. Though he couldn’t be sure, Jesse swore he heard Genji giggle.

 

Outside, the hallway toward the dorms stretched on in uncomfortable silence, and Jesse started to head back toward the kitchen when Genji grabbed his elbow and tugged him in the opposite direction. He didn’t dare to protest, not when faced with the determination literally glowing in Genji’s eyes.

 

They stopped abruptly outside Genji’s room, which left Jesse as anxious as he was confused. Before he could ask what the hell was happening, Genji turned to face him, chest to chest. “I did not mean to get so emotional on you,” he growled, staying far closer to Jesse than usual. “My brother fucking killed me, I miss him more than I ever expected, and you are the only person that seems to make it any better. I don’t understand this.”

 

Jesse found himself dumbstruck, but after a beat, everything clicked in his head. It was obvious, honestly. “I have no idea what your situation feels like,” he admitted, finally giving in to the need to rest a hand on Genji’s shoulder. “But to be taken from a criminal empire and treated like a human weapon, well. Been there, done that. I know what it does to you.”

 

Genji said nothing, leaving Jesse to worry that he’d stepped too far and erased the past three weeks of hesitant, hopeful friendship. Then, without warning, he threw his arms around Jesse and squeezed him about as tight as a cyborg ninja could—which, shockingly, wasn’t that painful. Or maybe he was just so elated to have earned Genji’s affection that he couldn’t feel his ribcage being crushed. Jesse returned the hug as soon as his brain quit short-circuiting, then buried his face in the soft obsidian puff of Genji’s hair, taking advantage of this moment of trust for as long as it would last.

 

He felt Genji sigh, and realized that realized all at once that it had been years—his whole life, maybe—since he’d really had a friend. Yet, here he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the google doc for this is labeled 'april 13' if that shows you how long it took for me to force myself to write anything.
> 
> I wanted to play with these two because I Love Them. Chapter 2 will be a flash-forward to the future, where Jesse "Shimada Whisperer" McCree works his same magic with Hanzo. I like to think that he's a great friend for both of them because while he's so...McCree, he's still calm and reserved enough when need be that they let their guard down a bit. For Genji, that would mean not touching; for Hanzo, probably just shutting his mouth.
> 
> also a little bit of inspiration from this comic, which I stare longingly into on a regular basis: http://pmendicant.tumblr.com/post/159395791444/weaponsmore-this-is-like-way-more-vague-and
> 
> thank you so much again for putting up with my self-deprecating-constantly-checking-unedited-misery-writing, i try so hard, i get so far,, y'all know the rest,,, <3 any and all comments/kudos are beloved & appreciated!!


	2. Chapter 2

Genji can’t be _that_ injured, because Zenyatta isn’t visibly trembling anymore. This is a welcome change: when Hanzo had stepped off the transport, half-carrying a limp Genji, Zenyatta’s mechanical body had started to shake like a feather in a thunderstorm. Jesse hadn’t deemed it worth his time to figure out why an omnic was equipped with the ability to shake with emotion, though it didn’t seem to be controllable, and his heart would go out to Zenyatta if he weren’t just as focused on Genji’s well-being.

 

On the other hand, Angela had been silent and near-motionless as she helped Genji onto a stretcher and pushed him, with Lúcio’s help, to the medbay. Jesse was left to watch as Hanzo flickered at lightspeed between trying to follow and trying to flee the scene, his dark eyes wide and his face blossoming with unrestrained guilt. After a long minute, he decided on following, and Jesse caught him by the wrist before he could take off after the stretcher.

 

“They’re not gonna let you into the medbay,” he had told Hanzo, keeping his voice low in hopes that Hanzo wouldn’t just brush him off and run away. “You don’t want to see your brother in surgery. Trust me.”

 

Hanzo’s bare shoulder shuddered in time with his panicked breathing. “I—It’s—I can’t stay here, I have to… It’s my fault, Jesse, he’s—”

 

“Now I’m nearly certain that’s not true,” Jesse soothed. Already, Hanzo was shaking his head and looking away. They’d developed some sort of a friendship over the last few months, both tiptoeing around Genji in the same orbit and then, eventually, around each other. This was the first time since the recall that the Shimadas had taken on a mission alone, as a testament to their healing brotherhood, and because they were a force to be reckoned with when fighting together. From the look in Hanzo’s eyes, Jesse could tell that the experience would not be positively reinforced. “We just have to wait this out, Hanzo. Happens to the best of us.”

 

Despite his best efforts, Hanzo had pulled his arm away—gently, at least—and disappeared from the landing platform, muttering something about _patronizing me, fucking cowboy._ Jesse flinched. At least he wouldn’t be in Angela’s way, so that was a tongue-lashing they could both avoid.

 

Now, sitting half-asleep next to Genji’s bed, Jesse has all but forgotten about his short exchange with the elder Shimada, as he’s more preoccupied with studying Zenyatta’s subtle body language for hints as to Genji’s condition. Angela had been silent as death when she let him in, and Lúcio was already gone. Between Jesse and Zenyatta, Genji lies half-conscious but peaceful, his umber eyes tracking the golden orb floating in a soft circle between himself and his mentor.

 

“Sorry to scare you both,” Genji croaks, catching Jesse by surprise. He doesn’t sound as drugged as he looks, and to be honest, Jesse has to wonder how much of his body is even affected by pain meds anyway. “Angela always gets… too serious about shit like this.”

 

Jesse glances up at the omnic on the other side of Genji’s bed, only to be distracted by the orbs spinning faster and faster around his neck. Zenyatta finds his words first. “Your body is strong, Genji, and at this point I believe your mind is unbreakable. We are just glad to have you here in one piece.”

 

When Genji smiles up at his mentor in return, Jesse feels like he’s intruding on their moment. But then Genji’s head turns, and he offers Jesse that same affectionate, gleaming grin, his scarred skin forming uneven crow’s feet that were never there before. He’s getting older, too, and it hits Jesse way too hard. On the other hand, the soft green glow of his cybernetics and the natural eyes do wonders for his beautiful face. Not that Jesse’s particularly biased or anything. Besides, it’s been six, seven years now; they’re different people. “I had to call your brother off,” he grumbles, helping Genji sit up a little bit. “He was about to go all fight-or-flight on the healers, and I think he chose flight. Who knows when we’ll—”

 

He’s cut off all of a sudden as the medbay door slams open, and before any of them have time to react, a blur of puffy black hair and stiff robes and furious yelling has crossed the room and near-attacked Genji. Once Hanzo stops moving for long enough to be heard, Jesse realizes that he’s babbling in Japanese, but cuts to English after a few shuddering breaths as he falls to the bed and hugs Genji so tight that even his cyber-lungs struggle to breathe.

 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, _otouto_ _,_ are you okay? Is Angela going to kill me? I shouldn’t have—I can’t—Genji—”

 

“Breathe, Hanzo,” murmurs Genji, patting his brother’s back, and Hanzo finally goes quiet. Several long moments pass, the silence interrupted only by Hanzo’s harsh, gasping breaths, and Jesse meets Zenyatta’s calm gaze over the bed once again. The omnic looks pleased, at least for someone with no facial expressions, so Jesse figures this is probably a good situation. Hanzo is sitting on the edge of the bed, on Zenyatta’s side, half-turned so that he can lean forward and clutch his brother for dear life, his head pressed firmly to Genji’s shoulder. Above them, the Orb of Harmony still floats, casting the tableau of burdened brothers in molten gold.

 

“I thought I was going to lose you again,” whispers Hanzo, sounding as broken as he ever has, and Jesse _feels_ his heart break.

 

Genji pushes his brother back as gently as possible so that they can make eye contact, and even that seems to relax Hanzo, though he’s still shaking even more violently than Zenyatta had been when the transport landed. “You didn’t. It will take you more than that to get rid of me, _aniki.”_

 

“P-please don’t… joke about that,” Hanzo replies. As he shakes his head, the tear tracks on his cheeks catch the light. Jesse has never seen him cry, and from the look on Genji’s stricken face, this is a rare and possibly dangerous sight.

 

After months of tension, bickering, and casually-dulled insults, Jesse watches as the Shimadas shed their defenses. _Maybe this mission was at the right time after all,_ he thinks. Then Zenyatta clears his throat— _how,_ wonders Jesse—and Hanzo tenses again. Moving with all the grace of an assassin, he brushes the tattered green hair from Genji’s brow, kisses his brother’s forehead, and then flees.

 

All three of them watch the door close behind Hanzo, and then Genji and Zenyatta turn their metal heads in unison to stare at Jesse. He doesn’t process it, though, and only reaches over to squeeze Genji’s hand before following Hanzo out of the medbay and down the hall. The orb above Genji’s head bounces joyfully as he goes, leaving Genji and Zenyatta to giggle to themselves in the golden glow.

 

Hanzo doesn’t make it far; despite his inhuman reflexes, Jesse has long legs, and that’s all he really needs to catch up. A halo of blue light surrounds Hanzo for a moment as he stops, gives up, and lets Jesse approach him. By the time they’re face to face, Hanzo is crying openly and his slender, shimmering blue dragons are wrapped around his shoulders.

 

“I didn’t know spirit dragons came in travel size,” quips Jesse. He knows it won’t help, but any effort to make Hanzo laugh is worth his time.

 

To his surprise, he earns a tiny smirk, which is eaten in seconds by another hiccuping sob. “If th-they decide to manifest… outside of battle,” mumbles Hanzo, “they won’t waste their energy.” He lifts his hands and rubs his palms into his eyes hard enough to hurt, while the dragons nose at his frizzy ponytail and lash their tails in frustration against his chest.

 

“They’re awful cute at this size.” Both tiny heads turn to Jesse, wary but curious, and for a moment he’s certain that they’re going to eat him alive. “Still badass,” he backtracks before they can attack. “Just. Adorable killer monsters.”

 

“They won’t eat you, if that’s what you’re worrying about. They like you.”

 

Jesse’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do they now?” he purrs, watching as Hanzo finally drops his hands from his eyes, leaving them bloodshot and puffy. One of the dragons flickers its tongue at Jesse as if to get a whiff of his scent, while the other rubs its whiskers against Hanzo’s cheek like an overzealous cat. “It’s good to see that they like takin’ care of you.”

 

“I do not need taking care of,” Hanzo growls, though he still won’t look at Jesse.

 

“Yeah, but you’re not okay, either.”

 

The hallway falls into silence, except for Hanzo’s softening sobs. Jesse wants to offer reassurance, preferably of the physical kind, but in his experience as Resident Shimada Whisperer, this is usually not the best course of action. So he stays still, participates in the quiet, and waits for Hanzo to come to him, or at least come out of his shell.

 

It takes at least three minutes for his efforts to be rewarded. “Why are you here, Jesse?”

 

“Overwatch? Or cryin’ over your brother’s bedside?”

 

Hanzo huffs, and Jesse worries again that he’s crossed the line of his permanent irritation. “No, _here._ In this hallway. You should be with Genji.”

 

“He has Zenyatta. I don’t particularly like bein’ a third wheel.”

 

“But he’s hurt, and you love him, and I’m just—just—”

 

Before he can continue, Hanzo breaks into sobs again, and one dragon snuffles at his neck while the other floats toward Jesse as if imploring him to comfort its master. _I’m doing my best,_ he thinks, wondering if the spirits can read his mind. It’s likely. “That’s all true, Hanzo. Genji is in good hands, though, and you shouldn’t have to be alone right now.” His own voice surprises him, soft and velvety as it can be.

 

Finally, Hanzo meets his eyes. “What?”

 

“Stop me if I get out of line,” he mutters, taking a tiny step closer so that the wayward dragon can paw at his face in its desperation. “But I can tell how hard this is for you. You’ve hurt your brother before, you’ll probably hurt him again, and you think it’s your fault that he’s hurt now.” Hanzo stares sharply into the floor, and Jesse lets his dragon wind around his neck and push him closer. “From what Angela told me, his injuries would’ve been awfully serious for a human body, but she didn’t have to do much to get him back to working order. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the only reason he’s awake and acting himself is his cyborg parts. So in the long run, you could’ve saved his life.”

 

With his usual intensity, Hanzo’s eyes snap up to meet Jesse’s. “Why would you _say_ that? He’s nearly died so many times because of me! How the hell would one mission ever make his… change worthwhile?”

 

Jesse smirks. “You said it yourself, darlin’. It was just one mission.”

 

“I-I don’t understand you.”

 

“You can’t change what you’ve done, but you can do your best to protect him, and you did that. No one blames you except yourself.”

 

He watches a single tear roll down Hanzo’s cheek and get caught in his trembling lip, glistening blue in the cool light from the dragons as they continue to drag Jesse into Hanzo’s space. Before they can be smushed together by the sheer force of the scaly masterminds, Jesse lifts his hands to Hanzo’s shoulders and braces himself while simultaneously rubbing all the warmth and comfort he has to offer into Hanzo’s flushed skin. The dragon that had previously been occupied with nuzzling its master joins the other in wrapping around both their necks and squeezing the men closer together, chattering to themselves all the while. Hanzo shivers. “Jesse,” he whispers, and Jesse forgets how to breathe, “I don’t know him anymore.”

 

He feels Hanzo’s sigh in the thin air between them. “Honestly, neither do I.”

 

“I want to be his brother again. I was never a _good_ brother. But he feels like—like a stranger.”

 

“I know.” Jesse moves one hand to stroke his hair, then immediately stifles all the daydreams he’s had about playing with those ridiculous sideburns. _Not the time,_ he chastises himself. “He’s changed. He’s healed, and that’s hard for those of us who haven’t.”

 

Without warning, Hanzo faceplants into Jesse’s shoulder, which pleases the dragons to no end, and they snuffle their way around Jesse’s face to nose at his beard. “Every time I see his face, without the mask, I hate myself so much,” Hanzo says, tilting his head so that Jesse can hear him. “But then—if I don’t see him all day, or if we don’t have time for each other, I feel terrible. It’s like I need him, but I don’t d-deserve to be around him, and then half the time I _hate_ him for moving on from the clan and being… this. Whatever he is. And then I hate myself more.”

 

Jesse is shocked to hear all of this actually coming from Hanzo’s mouth, though he suspected it months before, because Hanzo doesn’t just admit to weaknesses like this. Slowly, cautiously, he lets himself wrap one hand around the back of Hanzo’s head and the other around his shoulders, encouraged by the tittering dragons. “You know as well as I that Genji’s no angel. And that he spends a _stupid_ amount of time meditatin’ just to be so calm after everything.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Besides.” Jesse clears his throat. “You’re allowed to do things for yourself, not just to try an’ atone your life away when you’ve already been forgiven.”

 

A short stretch of silence follows, and then Hanzo lifts his head, says “okay,” and, to his utmost surprise, kisses Jesse on the mouth. Certainly not what he expected from this conversation, but a happy outcome all the same. And for an assassin who’s still on the brink of hysterical tears, Hanzo is soft in ways that Jesse can’t wrap his head around—his gentle lips, his hands bunched in Jesse’s shirt, his well-groomed beard. His dragons, on the other hand, are decidedly trying to suffocate them. If it weren’t for that, Jesse would never have pulled away; in all honesty he’s content to die here, his lower lip caught between Hanzo’s, warm scales constricting around the back of his neck, until Hanzo pulls away to give the spirits a piece of his mind in fervent Japanese.

 

“They’re just excited, darlin’, give ‘em a break,” he laughs. They’re so close that Hanzo can definitely feel the words on his face, and Jesse watches his breath catch in his throat.

 

“They need to mind their own business.” Hanzo finishes the sentence on Jesse’s lips, then keeps talking even as he tries to kiss him again. “They’ve probably sent their little mind-signals to Genji’s dragon already. If he weren’t stuck in bed, he’d be harassing us.”

 

Jesse decides, then and there, that nothing tastes better than Hanzo chuckling into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ this turned out shippier than expected...my strengths are limited y'all. I feel better about it than the first chapter tho! (also I was gonna change the tags to be less shippy and then I finished this chapter and uh......yeah)
> 
> the only reason I finished this was that after 4 days of procrastinating writing, i decided to work out, but then to procrastinate working out i wrote!! happy fucking finals week everyone!!! anyway I have a Weakness for noodle dragons and i wasn't gonna have the Kissing but then it happened and..i have a lot of weaknesses actually. let hanzo cry. let me project all of my own emotions onto physical characters since i dont have an """identity""" whatever tf that means. let me Live
> 
> seriously tho, i hope everyone enjoyed this. leave comments/kudos if you so desire, i love them all!!! (*whispers* and let me know if you'd be interested in nsfw ~addendums~ to either chapter because...im willing...and eager...)
> 
> oh also the only japanese i know is ironic weeb-speak so pls correct me if it's wrong


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